Some say the forest is serene. Others whisper it is a cradle for vengeance. Tonight, the bamboo will tremble… and the shadows will remember a name: Lóng Wēi.
The night lay thick over the bamboo forest, silver mist curling around jade-green stalks like the smoke of an ancient ritual. Moonlight spilled over the dew-soaked ground, painting the tips of leaves with frost-like brilliance. The faint trill of a nightingale echoed from hidden branches, each note like a sigh carried through eternity. The forest seemed suspended, caught in a breathless pause between worlds, as if aware that a predator moved among its guardians.
Lóng Wēi stepped lightly, barefoot, his movements fluid as water flowing over stone. His pale jade-like skin glimmered under the moon, a soft contrast to the darkness of his long black hair streaked with silver. One eye remained hidden beneath a white blindfold, a flowing white robe with black-trimmed edges draping over his form. Sleeves fluttered behind him, tracing the air like liquid shadow, while the hem of the robe swayed, revealing glimpses of slender legs honed by years of hidden training.
A black dragon mark coiled along his right arm, its tail entwined with a single crimson spider lily. On his temple rested a crystal, faintly gleaming, holding the moonlight like a captured shard of soul. The dragon mark pulsed faintly, alive with the energy of his spirit—long dormant, now stirring with a mixture of mischief, danger, and anticipation.
He hummed softly, barely audible over the distant melody of guqin and bamboo flute drifting from the ceremonial grove ahead. Each note was mournful yet precise, haunting yet intoxicating, drawing him closer like a tether he could not resist.
"I can't help but dance in excitement…" Long Wei murmured, voice low and teasing, yet edged with something sharper. His bare feet barely touched the wet grass beneath him, swaying like the wind-rippled leaves above. Every step was deliberate, a predator enjoying the hunt even before it began.
The nightingale hopped along beside him, wings rustling like silk. It chirped in delicate encouragement, though its instincts sensed the dangerous aura radiating from him. Long Wei smiled beneath his blindfold, a mix of childlike glee and lethal elegance, tilting his head as strands of hair shimmered with silver in the moonlight.
The ceremony awaited, yet his mind wandered in playful peril. Will there be insects to test… or spirits to toy with? How will the humans tremble when they hear my footsteps? Will the offerings be worthy… or shall I taste the forbidden first? His grin widened, soft yet wicked, the tension of anticipation coursing through him.
The wind carried the scent of incense and faint smoke from distant torches. Long Wei twirled lightly, robe fluttering like wings, hair trailing behind him. His steps were both dance and stealth, elegance intertwined with predation. Each movement held rhythm, responding to the haunting music of guqin and flute, as if his body were an instrument itself.
A sudden crack beneath his foot made him pause. His hand brushed the rough bark of a bamboo stalk for balance. Muscles tensed, then relaxed, eyes narrowing beneath the blindfold. He inhaled, savoring the sensation of danger mingling with amusement. Even the smallest obstacle becomes a thrill if approached with the right mind.
A flash of movement caught his attention. A small dragonling—a spectral creature no larger than a dove—spiraled in the air, its scales glimmering faintly like obsidian and jade. Long Wei bent forward, fingertips brushing its iridescent wings. It chirped, acknowledging him not as predator but as kin in cunning.
"Little one… your heart beats in rhythm with mine," he whispered, voice soft yet commanding. "But do not mistake play for mercy."
The dragonling darted toward him, coiling around his arm, brushing the black dragon mark etched in his skin. Its tiny claws traced the pattern, sensing the latent energy stored in the coiled tail. Long Wei's fingers brushed over the creature gently, eyes narrowing slightly beneath the blindfold, reading its pulse, reading the forest.
"Tonight… we feast," he murmured, tilting his head, lips curling in a smile both innocent and cruel. The night seemed to hum in response, bamboo stalks swaying as if bowing before his presence.
Music carried farther now, stronger, the sound of ceremonial drums faintly thundering over the guqin and flute. Long Wei's grin sharpened, playful yet predatory. He crouched slightly, testing his balance, the mist curling around his feet like a living thing. Every breath he drew synchronized with the forest—the hiss of the wind, the soft cries of hidden creatures, even the pulse of the dragon mark along his arm.
"Do they truly know what awaits?" he whispered, voice soft enough to disappear into the night yet sharp enough to slice the air. "Do they feel the shadow curling around their fates?"
His robe swirled around him as he leapt lightly onto a moss-covered stone, landing with perfect precision. The dragon mark pulsed brighter for an instant, spider lily petals glowing faintly, as though sensing the predator's intent.
He bent forward, the crystal at his temple catching moonlight, scattering tiny sparks like shards of forgotten stars. Long Wei leaned closer to the dragonling perched on his shoulder, forehead brushing against its gleaming scales—a gesture intimate, quiet, commanding. The creature trembled slightly, a mix of reverence and fear, yet it did not flee.
"I am here," Lóng Wēi whispered, tone almost childlike in its melody. "And I will not wait."
The night seemed to exhale. The bamboo rustled, mist thickened, and the first threads of shadow began to coil around the forest floor. Long Wei rose, a dangerous, playful storm in human form, steps echoing like the soft drum of destiny. Tonight, the forest would remember him—the predator, the playful demon, the shadow dancing in the first flames of vengeance.
He disappeared into the mist, leaving only the faint glimmer of his crystal, the pulse of his dragon mark, and the whisper of a smile that promised both delight and terror .